Shades of Blue
by Azhani
Summary: Our life is what we make of it and its painted in many shades and colors. For her, life was nothing but an infinite blue...


**Shades of Blue.**

**Disclaimer: **The Devil Wears Prada( movie and book) is not mine. Amelia Elizabeth Smith on the other hand is a character of my own creation.

**Pairing: **Andy/OC, Andy/Miranda if you look very hard...

**A/N: **This is an story that has haunted me for months. It may or not have a sequel, but if i do one it will be in a long time since I am trying to concentrate on my other fic Love and War.

As a side note, I was listening to "Missing" of Evanescence as I was writing this, an amazing song and very appropriate for this story I think, so I recommend you listen to it as you read it.

* * *

_1996. Twelve years before._

She could feel her eyes on her body like the caress of a lover.

Her deep dark eyes full of an intensity that left a trail of fire were they touched.

The beat of her heart increased and Amelia felt her nipples tightening in an strange mix of excitement, embarrassment and the cool air they were exposed in the studio of the most brilliant painter of the century.

She shifted slightly in her reclined position on the Luis XV chaise lounge and a lock of blond hair fell across her deep blue eyes.

When she lifted her hand to move the lock of hair to its place a whispered soft "_no" _was heard and she locked eyes with the person that was going to give her immortality.

The famous artist that had taken the name of Sappho, refusing to give the world her real name...or identity.

No one knew, besides the carefully selected models and one single agent, who the brilliant painter was. Her age, nationality or even sex where a mystery.

Speculations ran around all the time, but no one had any idea of who the master artist was.

_And no one would believe it if the knew-_ Amelia thought to herself as she left her hair to fall were it wanted and locked eyes with Sappho.

The twenty two years old Amelia Elizabeth Smith gave an enigmatic little smile...

Her long blond hair spilled over pale immaculate skin and part of her pert pink tipped breast's, long legs stretched across the sofa and trimmed golden curls hided her sex.

In front of her, holding the tools of her trade, stood a sixteen years old girl of short messy dark hair, delicate pale skin and incredible intense dark eyes...

* * *

_2008. Present._

...full with tears.

She still could not understand herself.

_Why? _She wondered.

"Why I am here?"- she whispered to herself.

Piercing gray-blue eyes flashed on her mind as an answer and she frowned.

"Blue..." - she whispered brokenly.

Her eyes closed, leaving the stained walls of the motel of Paris she was staying after abandoning the most influential woman in the fashion industry the day before.

Miranda Priestly.

"Always blue"- were her last words before breaking in soul shattering sobs.

* * *

_1997. Eleven years before._

"Why are you so obsessed with blue love?" -asked twenty three years old Amelia Elizabeth Smith as she looked at the last masterpiece signed with only an S in the bottom left corner.

She was naked from the waist up, a white sheet draped around her hips looking every inch the angelic goddess she portrayed in the various works of Sappho.

Standing in front of the floor to ceiling glass windows of the private mansion on a beach in Monaco, stood a barefoot seventeen years old girl dressed in tan cargo pants and a paint spotted white shirt smoking a cigarette.

She had messy short black hair, pale white skin and intense dark eyes.

"Because that's the color of nature's greatest mysteries..."- replied Sappho softly, before shifting to look at the love of her life.

Dark orbs pierced Amelia's soul, who went to her lover and encircled her neck in loving arms.

Sappho lifted a paint spotted hand and cupped the face of the older woman who nuzzled her palm delicately.

An adoring smile spread on the face of the young woman.

"...and greatest beauties."

* * *

_1998. Ten years before._

"I will not do it!"- screamed the twenty four years old blonde woman to her lover, tears falling down her face.

"Then you will die!"- roared in anger and fear the eighteen years old brunette, her heart pounding frantically on her chest.

Tears rolled from her dark eyes and she fell to her knees in front of the most important person in her life.

"And ill die with you..."- she whispered brokenly, the light dimming in her dark eyes.

* * *

_2008. Present._

She seated brokenly in a single bed in a room in Paris.

Her face wet with tears...

Her eyes lacking any light, dark as a night with no stars...

"I did it Amelia..."- she whispered in a broken voice.

"I died without you..."- open in the bedside table was a bottle of pills, a single blue one shining in the dieing day...

* * *

_2000. Eight years before._

The day was wrong.

_She could feel the overbearing heat of the sunny day on her back._

Nature was wrong.

_She could listen to the birds singing to the morning day and smell the perfume of the flowers blooming on spring._

Life was wrong.

_She walked in a daze behind the six pallbearers that carried that black sarcophagus. And all around her a sea of black engulfed her, moans of pain and sobbing a sinister cacophony._

Sappho was wrong.

_She lifted her left hand and opening her palm saw the platinum wedding band that she had carried for only a year._

_Then she lifted her black eyes dry of any tears..._

_Eyes lacking any life in them..._

_She had died._

_

* * *

_

_2008. Present._

She was about to drink the last remnant of her expensive blood-red wine when the shrill sound of her cellphone broke the silence in the expensive suite.

A sigh left her mouth as she carefully put the glass down and tiredly rose to her feet.

Today had -not- been good.

She picked her blackberry and prepared herself to cut down the fool who had dared to interrupt her peace.

"Yes?" - she said in her coldest of tones.

"Is this madam Priestly?" -asked a heavily accented french voice.

"Yes its me" - was the hesitant answer, the previous coldness starting to leave.

As she stood in the dark room, dressed in only her gray robe, Miranda listened to a foreign woman speaking broken English...

And explaining how her day had not been only bad.

Her day was in fact a nightmare, were no colors could hope to illuminate the darkness that threatened to swallow her pale small body in its infinite shadows...

* * *

Ok, there it is. Maybe now that I am free of this story I can focus on my other one. I hope someone enjoy this and review. Bye!


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